The watcher would keep an eye on Warrant. Usually he had two watchers per prey, but this time, he’d split his resources.

Now it was nearly time for the big finish.

The faint glow from the computer screen lit Samantha’s face. Max walked into the room, deliberately making his steps loud so she’d know he was coming. She was in the bedroom that they’d been assigned. His bedroom, not that he ever stayed there.

Frank was down the hallway, not dosing on sleeping pills tonight, but, from the sound of things, f**king Beth.

Max closed the door, locked it, and stared at her. “Find anything?” He knew that she’d gotten access to every computer in the place as he’d shielded her from prying eyes. She had Quinlan’s laptop again, and he wondered what she’d found on his brother’s system.

She looked up at him, and he saw the hesitation in her stare.

“What?” He stripped off his shirt and tossed it toward the chair. Almost two-thirty in the morning, and he was still wired. Christ, he’d never get to sleep at this rate.

How can I sleep when I don’t know what the hell is happening to Quinlan?

“You know Beth is your brother’s lover, too, don’t you?” Samantha asked.

His arms crossed over his chest. “I didn’t.” He didn’t move closer. He didn’t want to scare her. Not again. “But I’m not surprised. He’s the one who introduced her to Frank.” If Frank had thought his son was sleeping with Beth, then, yeah, in his mind, that was all the more reason to screw her.

Frank was a real dick.

But not nearly the worst guy that his mother had picked in her life. She’d sure been good at choosing losers.

Don’t go there.

“Your brother gambles.” Samantha’s fingers curled around the laptop screen. Her legs were stretched out on the bed with the computer nestled on her thighs. “It took me a while to find it, but there’s a code system in here.” A quick swipe of her tongue made her lower lip slick and kissable. “He gambles a lot, Max.”

Her admission had him blinking, then shaking his head. “Gambling?” Drugs—yes, he knew about them. But gambling?

“He deleted the e-mails. But they were easy to recover,” she added under her breath. “The gambling has been going on for a while. And he seems to bet on everything. Playoffs, horses, fights.”

“No wonder he wanted me to hit Frank up for an advance on his trust.” Max huffed out a breath and paced toward the window. A million-dollar view that was worth nothing. “How deep is he in?”

Silence. Then… “He asked for money before he disappeared?” A soft click as the laptop closed.

Stars glittered over the lake. The first time his mother had seen the lake, she’d been blown away. She’d called him, talking about how beautiful it was as it reflected the stars. But now, when he looked at it, all Max saw was just black water. “Yeah, Quinlan needed money, and he wanted me to do the asking. He never could stand up to Frank.” Tension had an ache building in the back of his neck. “Like it was gonna make a difference that I was the one coming with my hand out.”

He glanced over his shoulder and found Samantha watching him, a faint line between her brows. “How much?” he asked. “How deep was he in?”

“About two hundred grand.”

Fuck. “I’ll pay it.” Quinlan should have just come to him. “When we get him back, I’ll clear it up. I’ll make sure he stays out of that mess. Everything will be fine.” If he said it enough, it might make it true. When we get him back.

She eased to the edge of the bed and stood slowly. “Does Quinlan have a lot of problems that you have to help him with?”

She still wore that borrowed dress, one that was a little too loose across the top of her chest. One that gave him a tempting glimpse of flesh when she leaned forward. He took a breath and could almost taste her. “You already know about the drugs, don’t you?” he asked. The woman seemed to know everything.

She knows about me. Knows and can’t stand for me to touch her.

Max glanced back at the lake. His fingers pressed against the cold pane of glass.

“When I saw him before…” She cleared her throat. “Uh… Max, is he using now?” Worry thickened her voice.

Hell, probably. “He’s been in a half-dozen rehab centers. He got hooked after—after my mother became sick.” All I’ll say now about her. He’d laid his soul bare enough for one night. “Just when I think he’s clean, the drugs pull him right back.” And it didn’t help that Frank didn’t seem to really give a shit what Quinlan was doing.

“It’s hard to watch someone you love fight an addiction.” Her words were so quiet—and it sure sounded like she was talking from experience.

“You can’t fight it for them,” she said, and the hardwood creaked beneath her feet as she came closer to him. “No matter how much you might want to.”

He squared his shoulders as he faced her once more. “Who was it for you?” He asked.

“My mother. It took a long time, one hell of a long time, for her to drag her way out of the bottle.” Samantha gave a sad shake of her head. “Her friends weren’t any help. She was just partying, right? What was wrong with that?”

Samantha pushed back her hair. “But they didn’t live with her. They didn’t see her drinking at breakfast. Didn’t see her stumbling in after midnight, all but crawling up the stairs, and they weren’t there the day—” She broke off, sucking in a deep breath of air. The smile that covered her lips then was grim. “It’s hard,” she said again. “Very hard.”

He just stared at her. “They weren’t there the day—what?”

Such darkness in her eyes. “They weren’t there the day I fell into the lake, and she didn’t even notice because she was so drunk.”

His hands clenched into fists.

“She’s been clean for years, but it was a long, hard fight. My dad didn’t stay around for it. She lost most of her friends… I guess she wasn’t as fun to them anymore.”

The day I fell into the lake…

“You can’t control other people,” she said after a moment. “You can’t make them do the things you want, even if it’s for their own good.”

She’d been brutally honest with him. He could give her the same benefit. Guess I am going back to hell tonight, for her. “My mother was diagnosed with cancer two years ago. She went through the rounds of surgery and chemo, but nothing worked.”

He’d watched her wither away right in front of him. Every day, she’d just grown paler, weaker. “Quinlan… his own mother abandoned him and I don’t think he could handle watching someone else disappear before his eyes.” I sure couldn’t take it.

Quinlan had always been in his mother’s room. Watching her and talking to her as she slipped away.

“At first, no one even noticed what Quinlan was doing.” They’d all been so busy mourning his mother that it had taken them a while to see the shape Quinlan was in. “I think the drugs must have numbed the pain for him, at first anyway. Then…” Then Quinlan had just gotten to where he liked the rush.

Their gazes held.

“I’m not giving up on him. I won’t.” But he knew that she was right. He could send his brother to every program, but if Quinlan just planned to start using the minute he walked out… Max ran a hand over the back of his neck, trying to push away that knot. “I’ll get him home, and I’ll do anything I can to help him get clean.” What else was there to do?

“It’s all you,” she whispered. “What you’ll do for him. What about Frank? What’s he doing?”

Frank seemed shaken now, like his world had spiraled away from him—and it had. Maybe he’d step up now and finally see his son.

Her head tilted. “How would you say Quinlan feels about his father?”

“He hates the old man.” And that’s what Quinlan always called him. “Frank is screwing his lover, so how do you think he feels?”

“I’d say there is animosity there.”

Yeah, too damn tame a word. But then Max understood. He advanced on her. “No, hell, no. Don’t even think it.” His back teeth clenched. “My brother is the victim here.” Had the woman been playing him just then? Trying to make him feel close to her, trying to get him to let down his guard?

One of her shoulders lifted in what was probably supposed to be a careless shrug. “I never said he wasn’t.” Her stare didn’t waver.

But for a minute, when he’d first gotten the call, he’d doubted. He wondered. Quinlan had wanted that money so badly and then just disappeared…

The doubt hadn’t lasted long, though, not with that prick on the line promising to hurt Quinlan. Then that damn package had arrived.

His brother was the victim. “Get to sleep,” he ordered, tired of the doubt and the worry. “It’s late, and we’re both going to be sharing the bed.”

Her eyes widened as she glanced at the bed.

“Part of our cover, remember?” Screw the cover. The grim truth was that he still wanted her. And the sick truth was that she didn’t want him touching her.

You could run from your past. You could spend a dozen years trying to change, but there would always be people who looked at you and saw the blood and guts of who you were.

A killer. When Samantha looked at him, he knew what she saw.

She exhaled on a breathy little sigh. “I’m not here right now because I need a cover, Max.” Her hair looked soft and silky, and her lips, bare of color, were plump and just inches away. “I’m here because I want to be. I told you about my past because I wanted you to know me.”

What?

“You scare me,” she admitted.

Just great. You scare me, too, baby.

“And I—I’m sorry about what happened to your mother. The cancer… and before. With her attack.”

She might as well have hit him again. He tried to hold on to his anger, but with her, it kept sliding away. “Got the story verified, did you?” She must have called her agents when she was alone. He didn’t buy that she’d taken him at his word.

“Max…”

He brushed past her. “I’m going to bed. Do whatever the hell you want.” He ditched his pants. No boxers. Like she hadn’t already seen him na**d. “Stay up all night.” He probably would. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw that severed finger and wondered where his brother was. “But don’t worry about me. I’m not going to jump you.”

If only. Frank had the right of it. Hard, driving sex was the way to shove the demons away.

The way to hold onto sanity until dawn came.

Hold on, Quinlan. Just hold on.

Max climbed into the bed, closed his eyes, and tried to shut her out. But he could hear her. Every soft move. Every rustle.

The bed dipped when Samantha eased in beside him. He caught her scent, light, flowery, and wanted more.

No. You couldn’t always have what you wanted. He knew that better than others.

Silence.

In bed with him. Close. If he reached out, he could touch her.

He wouldn’t reach out. But, dammit, he had to ask. “Is he alive?” His eyes opened to darkness. “You know these bastards. Do you think he’s alive somewhere, hurting and scared, or have they already cut him up?” His eyes struggled to adjust to the dark as he waited for her answer. Not a bullshit response, the truth.

Her fingers brushed his arm. Heat shot through him. “He’s alive.”

Max could almost believe her. Almost.

Her hand slipped over his chest, stopping just over his heart, and he knew that she had to feel the desperate drumming. “Wouldn’t do that,” he warned. This was the only warning he’d give. “Not unless you want me to finish what you’re starting.”

Between them, there could be no innocent touches now. No comfort in the darkness. In the middle of hell, he still wanted her. Fuck, had wanted her, every moment, even when rage bubbled in his chest.

His c*ck was hard, ready, because she was near. The temptation to reach out to her was strong because he knew she would make him forget, for just a few moments, the nightmare he was living.

“I’m afraid of the way you make me feel.” Her words came again. In the dark, his Samantha was being honest. A surprise. But, no, maybe she’d always been honest in the dark. Honest when their bodies touched and the need exploded.

The real her?

“I know I shouldn’t,” she said, her voice husky and seeming to stroke right over his cock, “but I still want you.” Samantha rose a bit, turning on her side, and her breath blew over his cheek.

And he wanted her. If she didn’t pull back…

No more warnings.

“It’s wrong,” she told him softly, her voice sin in the dark. “The case, us. But… but I need to be with you one more time.”

He grabbed her and pulled her toward him. Her skin slid against his, and he wanted more. He’d have more.

“You don’t trust me,” she whispered, and her lips were less than an inch away.

And you don’t trust me. But he didn’t say that. No need. They both knew it.

“You don’t—”

Max kissed her. He tangled his fingers in her hair, pulled her head down, and pressed his lips to hers. She moaned into his mouth and arched toward him. Still wearing that damn dress when he wanted to feel her bare skin.